Spikeslashficathon entry
Written for willshenillshe's Spikeslashficathon:
for pallidamors who requested: Oz/Spike
Including: character death, mention of Willow, revenge
Excluding: fluff or Buffy
TITLE: Ash
AUTHOR: aimeelicious
PAIRING: Oz/Spike
RATING: R, for violence, language & sexual references
GENRE: dark, angst
SPOILERS: Takes place sometime vaguely toward the middle/end of BtVS season 7, not strict canon
WARNINGS: Character death! This is dark and unpleasant. Frankly, I didn't know I had it in me.
Special thanks to willshenillshe for the last-minute, very helpful beta.
I'm not certain this is what the request was meant to produce, but this is what came out! Hope you enjoy.
---------------------------------------------
ETA: Please read warnings above before continuing. I think this story is making some people unhappy when they read it and I don't want that =(
Oz observed Spike from the balcony as the vampire moved through the bar, looking hard and untouchable as always. It was a powerful front, but research revealed the truth. Slayer sidekick, full of technology and soul that turned him from vampire into something less. He idly wondered if Spike would remember him. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he'd forget. Vamps tended to have good recall. Didn't matter, since either way this would end the same way. He dropped his cigarette and followed Spike into the darkness.
It didn't take long to get noticed.
"Whoever's behind me, step out and be counted."
Oz moved from the shadows and stood still on the sidewalk. Spike walked up to him, and sniffed the air.
"You're familiar. Used to hang 'round with the Scoobies...Daniel, was it?"
"I prefer Oz."
"Right, the werewolf. You and Willow..." Spike's voice trailed off and he made a face. “Why are you back in lovely Sunnyhell anyway? Thought you were gone for good. And what's with the stalker bit?"
"Wanted to look you up. Talk about old times." He moved so fast Spike couldn't react quickly enough to dodge the unexpected jolt from a cattle prod. "Fuck," was all the vampire got out before he was down on the pavement, limp and unresponsive.
Oz hoisted the body over his shoulder and made for his truck, where he wrapped Spike from head to toe in heavy iron chain, gagged him with a towel and dumped him in the covered bed. It wasn't a long trip to the cheap motel on the outskirts of town, but if Spike came to on the way, he wasn't going anywhere. Between the restraints and weakness from the electricity, he'd be unwillingly passive for a while. Convenient.
After parking, Oz pulled out the key to the room he'd rented earlier. In the back, it had plenty of privacy, or at least guests who wouldn't question anything they heard. When he opened the tailgate, Spike rolled out and landed on the ground with a muffled oath.
"You're awake," said Oz. "Good." Again he lifted him like a sack, making for the second floor room with sure strides. Propping Spike against the wall, he opened the door and then shoved him in, leaving him on the floor as the door was locked. He waved a hand and said a few words in Latin to ensure no-one would be leaving until this was over. Helped to have a witch as an ex-girlfriend. With emphasis on the ex.
Turning around, he looked down at the trussed up vampire, yellow eyes glaring angrily back at him.
"Suppose you're wondering what this is about?"
Spike nodded vehemently, growling low but not so low that Oz couldn't hear it.
"You'll know soon."
Oz kicked him in the stomach, hard. Spike coughed into the towel and tried to grab his middle but the chains prevented it. He groaned and Oz couldn't resist a slight smirk. This was going well. Too bad he couldn't make it last, but Wolfram & Hart was being generous already, letting him take care of some personal business while he was here in Sunnydale on their dime.
"Seems you might save the world," Oz explained conversationally, wandering around the small room as he spoke. "That destiny is a problem, for certain parties. They need one less vampire with a soul.” He privately noted that the lawyers seemed to prefer everyone without a soul, alive or dead. It had been a small price to pay for control of the wolf.
Oz nudged the vampire with his foot. “Must admit, I'm surprised. Thought you would have fought more."
At this, Spike began growling louder, tugging at the chains and gnawing at the towel in full game-face.
"That's more like it," Oz said in approval, leaning over and grabbing Spike's hair. He yanked the blond head back sharply and Spike's eyes narrowed in fury.
"This is more than just a job. It's personal." He drew a delicate line across Spike's white neck with a finger. "So simple, to just kill you and be done. But I wanted to make sure you'd know. Why you should suffer, just a little." Oz paused, and the name rolled off his tongue slowly, with hateful reverence. "Willow."
Spike's face now reflected confusion as well as anger, and Oz smiled, lips stretched thin. "Yes, Willow. You kissed her once." He stroked Spike's neck again, this time sweeping his whole hand across the cool, smooth skin. "One too many times." Keeping a tight grip on the short hair, Oz knelt back on his heels and let his other hand wander over the constrained body before him, resting lightly on chest, arms, belly and finally cock. It was half-hard, which he'd known it would be. In his experience, vampires could never resist the sexual lure of violence.
Spike's hips twisted as he tried to move away from the offensive touch, and Oz pushed down hard on the sensitive flesh. Spike made another sound of anger, but his body betrayed him, sending borrowed blood south in a sure sign of arousal. Oz chuckled. "You want to get out of here. But this," he squeezed his hand, "says otherwise. How embarrassing."
He stood up abruptly, letting Spike's head hit the floor with a thud.
"Last words?" Oz reached down and pulled the towel gag out roughly, flinging it across the room.
"You little fucker. If you kill me, Buffy won't stand for it. Neither will Angelus," Spike spat from his prone position, inflection reverting to upper-crust English in his rage and fear. "They'll hunt you down, and you will pay."
Then there was nothing more, as the sharp stake found its way unerringly through a long-dead heart.
Oz watched dispassionately as Spike imploded into dust. A job well done, and another loose end, tied up. Xander was next, then Willow herself. No pain or humiliation for either of them. Just death.
He tucked the key into his pocket, lit another cigarette and walked out, smoke and ash fluttering behind him in the moonlight for nobody to see.
for pallidamors who requested: Oz/Spike
Including: character death, mention of Willow, revenge
Excluding: fluff or Buffy
TITLE: Ash
AUTHOR: aimeelicious
PAIRING: Oz/Spike
RATING: R, for violence, language & sexual references
GENRE: dark, angst
SPOILERS: Takes place sometime vaguely toward the middle/end of BtVS season 7, not strict canon
WARNINGS: Character death! This is dark and unpleasant. Frankly, I didn't know I had it in me.
Special thanks to willshenillshe for the last-minute, very helpful beta.
I'm not certain this is what the request was meant to produce, but this is what came out! Hope you enjoy.
---------------------------------------------
ETA: Please read warnings above before continuing. I think this story is making some people unhappy when they read it and I don't want that =(
Oz observed Spike from the balcony as the vampire moved through the bar, looking hard and untouchable as always. It was a powerful front, but research revealed the truth. Slayer sidekick, full of technology and soul that turned him from vampire into something less. He idly wondered if Spike would remember him. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he'd forget. Vamps tended to have good recall. Didn't matter, since either way this would end the same way. He dropped his cigarette and followed Spike into the darkness.
It didn't take long to get noticed.
"Whoever's behind me, step out and be counted."
Oz moved from the shadows and stood still on the sidewalk. Spike walked up to him, and sniffed the air.
"You're familiar. Used to hang 'round with the Scoobies...Daniel, was it?"
"I prefer Oz."
"Right, the werewolf. You and Willow..." Spike's voice trailed off and he made a face. “Why are you back in lovely Sunnyhell anyway? Thought you were gone for good. And what's with the stalker bit?"
"Wanted to look you up. Talk about old times." He moved so fast Spike couldn't react quickly enough to dodge the unexpected jolt from a cattle prod. "Fuck," was all the vampire got out before he was down on the pavement, limp and unresponsive.
Oz hoisted the body over his shoulder and made for his truck, where he wrapped Spike from head to toe in heavy iron chain, gagged him with a towel and dumped him in the covered bed. It wasn't a long trip to the cheap motel on the outskirts of town, but if Spike came to on the way, he wasn't going anywhere. Between the restraints and weakness from the electricity, he'd be unwillingly passive for a while. Convenient.
After parking, Oz pulled out the key to the room he'd rented earlier. In the back, it had plenty of privacy, or at least guests who wouldn't question anything they heard. When he opened the tailgate, Spike rolled out and landed on the ground with a muffled oath.
"You're awake," said Oz. "Good." Again he lifted him like a sack, making for the second floor room with sure strides. Propping Spike against the wall, he opened the door and then shoved him in, leaving him on the floor as the door was locked. He waved a hand and said a few words in Latin to ensure no-one would be leaving until this was over. Helped to have a witch as an ex-girlfriend. With emphasis on the ex.
Turning around, he looked down at the trussed up vampire, yellow eyes glaring angrily back at him.
"Suppose you're wondering what this is about?"
Spike nodded vehemently, growling low but not so low that Oz couldn't hear it.
"You'll know soon."
Oz kicked him in the stomach, hard. Spike coughed into the towel and tried to grab his middle but the chains prevented it. He groaned and Oz couldn't resist a slight smirk. This was going well. Too bad he couldn't make it last, but Wolfram & Hart was being generous already, letting him take care of some personal business while he was here in Sunnydale on their dime.
"Seems you might save the world," Oz explained conversationally, wandering around the small room as he spoke. "That destiny is a problem, for certain parties. They need one less vampire with a soul.” He privately noted that the lawyers seemed to prefer everyone without a soul, alive or dead. It had been a small price to pay for control of the wolf.
Oz nudged the vampire with his foot. “Must admit, I'm surprised. Thought you would have fought more."
At this, Spike began growling louder, tugging at the chains and gnawing at the towel in full game-face.
"That's more like it," Oz said in approval, leaning over and grabbing Spike's hair. He yanked the blond head back sharply and Spike's eyes narrowed in fury.
"This is more than just a job. It's personal." He drew a delicate line across Spike's white neck with a finger. "So simple, to just kill you and be done. But I wanted to make sure you'd know. Why you should suffer, just a little." Oz paused, and the name rolled off his tongue slowly, with hateful reverence. "Willow."
Spike's face now reflected confusion as well as anger, and Oz smiled, lips stretched thin. "Yes, Willow. You kissed her once." He stroked Spike's neck again, this time sweeping his whole hand across the cool, smooth skin. "One too many times." Keeping a tight grip on the short hair, Oz knelt back on his heels and let his other hand wander over the constrained body before him, resting lightly on chest, arms, belly and finally cock. It was half-hard, which he'd known it would be. In his experience, vampires could never resist the sexual lure of violence.
Spike's hips twisted as he tried to move away from the offensive touch, and Oz pushed down hard on the sensitive flesh. Spike made another sound of anger, but his body betrayed him, sending borrowed blood south in a sure sign of arousal. Oz chuckled. "You want to get out of here. But this," he squeezed his hand, "says otherwise. How embarrassing."
He stood up abruptly, letting Spike's head hit the floor with a thud.
"Last words?" Oz reached down and pulled the towel gag out roughly, flinging it across the room.
"You little fucker. If you kill me, Buffy won't stand for it. Neither will Angelus," Spike spat from his prone position, inflection reverting to upper-crust English in his rage and fear. "They'll hunt you down, and you will pay."
Then there was nothing more, as the sharp stake found its way unerringly through a long-dead heart.
Oz watched dispassionately as Spike imploded into dust. A job well done, and another loose end, tied up. Xander was next, then Willow herself. No pain or humiliation for either of them. Just death.
He tucked the key into his pocket, lit another cigarette and walked out, smoke and ash fluttering behind him in the moonlight for nobody to see.